


there's no i in team

by peachxi (peachi3)



Series: fic requests [4]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: But only if you squint, Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, implied Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachi3/pseuds/peachxi
Summary: based on the prompt:'Non-au where superm bond for the first time and get deep'
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taeyong
Series: fic requests [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919041
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	there's no i in team

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is very different to what I usually write. It felt pretty weird and I'm not sure if I'm just paranoid about it or if it really is a bit off, but either way I did promise to finish all these prompts! Writing people rather than characters . . . not my exact cup of tea, but that's probably because I'm not very good at it. I hope you enjoy regardless.
> 
> Stay safe, make sure you hydrate, and happy eggnogg season.
> 
> (sorry there was no blood rites update this week, it's just a hella long chapter and I need more time)

Taeyong had known, logically, that when he agreed to be put into SM’s new super boy group (not that in the grand scheme of things he’d really had much of a choice) it’d mean being grouped with people who were his seniors — people he’d probably grown up admiring. He’d spent countless nights sitting knee-to-knee with Mark as they put on face masks with cute patterns and allowed themselves a few treats, wondering who they’d get to work with.

It was surreal to think that out of everyone, he’d been chosen. The others . . . well, of _course_ he could understand Mark, as well as Ten and Lucas who got their offers not long after. They were incredibly talented after all, and after all their hard work they deserved this opportunity. It was a relief to know that at least he wouldn’t be completely alone or going into this blind.

So yes, he’d known that the final three members were going to be from senior groups, and he’d spent weeks fantasising about who it’d be, but he was still wholly unprepared for the day they all sat around the conference table with their managers and the door opened. He’d stopped breathing for a moment as the figures filed in, bowing a little and offering greetings as they moved to their seats, and by the time the burn in his lungs registered he already felt a little lightheaded. Taeyong sucked in a deep breath and stood up alongside his members, bowing in turn and trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he couldn’t stop staring. He felt like he was a rookie all over again, staring wide-eyed at the idols he passed in the hallways.

Byun Baekhyun. Kim Jongin. _Lee Taemin_. How could he be worthy of standing alongside them? Of being their equals?

Of course, it wasn’t like they’d just been selected for this — Taeyong knew that they would’ve been the first picks, the first names laid on paper before they’d even been considered to join them.

His mind was in a haze during the whole meeting, most of the conversation going in one ear and out the other even as he desperately tried to focus, but with each mention of _mini albums_ and _world tours_ and _American television performances,_ he got more and more lightheaded. Taeyong tried not to let it show. He wanted to make a good impression. He’d met each of them before, though the interactions had never extended between small hellos as they passed in the halls or backstage at events. Taeyong _really_ didn’t want to make a fool of himself when Kim Jongin — _Kai_ — was sitting beside him. It took everything in him not to bounce his knee under the table.

It felt even more surreal for all of them to be sitting around a different table in a small restaurant not too far from the company building and stuffing their faces with food. It was Baekhyun who’d suggested it: team bonding. It wasn’t that Taeyong was scared, he just . . . it was a lot. These were _his_ idols, yet somehow he was now expected to work alongside them. Professionalism was one thing, and he could do that, but this? This was completely out of his depth. He was used to doting over his members and keeping them in check, not sitting there red-faced and nervously laughing as Baekhyun praised them for his latest comeback, or Jongin imitated some of their choreography from his seat, skin glowing and eyes shining as Taeyong tried to comprehend the fact that he knew it in the first place. And then there was Taemin — quiet but impossibly kind, looking like, somehow, he was unsure, _shy_. It was a sharp contrast to the image he’d had in his head beforehand.

And so, it’d become a thing — regular team meals. Between comebacks and recordings and performances there wasn’t a whole lot of free time when they were all free which meant they ever so often there was a member or few missing, but they tried to have the full set whenever they could. Slowly, Taeyong found himself feeling . . . it was still completely unreal, but he grew more comfortable. He felt like he didn’t have to pretend as much or watch his words. When he was complimented he’d still get flustered, but he didn’t try to brush them off as much. When food was pushed onto his plate with encouraging words and smiles he nodded and let it happen.

Not being the one that everyone looked up to and relied upon was, dare he say it, freeing. Taeyong had never let himself consider what it’d feel like for the simple fact that he loved his members, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was all going well until it wasn’t. Building pressure and packed schedules that were added to with recording sessions for what was due to be their first mini-album, as well as photoshoots, filming, all of that, adding to his stress. It simmered and simmered and simmered and Taeyong kept pushing past it until he physically couldn’t; it boiled over.

They’d had their first dance practice earlier in the day, their voices ringing through the speakers in the form of their first title track, Jopping, and whilst he knew it was the first one and that they weren’t expected to memorise it all straight the session had put it into perspective just how infuriatingly lacking he was compared to them. How could he compare when he was dancing with men who were infamous for their unfathomable talent? Each time he’d missed a move he’d beat himself down, each time his foot wasn’t pointed the right way or he didn’t land something on the beat.

The seniors had left when the practice ended, full of optimism. Mark and Yukhei had left maybe an hour later after getting a bit more practice in, and Ten had stayed with him for another two before he’d also taken his leave, plastered with sweat and still smiling.

Taeyong needed to do better. He watched his reflection with intense determination as he danced and danced and danced, beyond the pain and exhaustion, until his limbs felt weightless and a little shaky, and then some more. Practice had ended at two, and it was now nearly eight, not that he’d looked at the clock since he’d started. His water bottle sat empty, now, discarded to the side, his hair damp and plastered to his forehead, breath coming out in heavy pants.

Halfway through another run, the door opened, and Taeyong whirled around so fast he almost lost balance. In the doorway, blinking slowly, was Taemin. He stood there for a second, panting, mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what the hell to say. “I just came back to get my jacket — I left it here during practice,” the elder explained, motioning past him to where it was hung on one of the hooks. Taeyong hadn’t noticed. “Have you checked your phone?”

“I— uh, no,” he breathed, a little winded; he desperately tried to keep his legs steady. “Why?”

Taemin stared at him in silence for a beat longer than was comfortable and then his expression softened a little and a bittersweet smile pulled at his lips. “We were going to head out for dinner. It’s a bit cold outside, though. Maybe I should just get them to bring back take out.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see the messages — it’s okay though, I’m, well, I was just about to head back to my dorm, since it’s getting late,” Taeyong rambled a little. He probably looked like absolute shit, didn’t he? Great. And now he was making a fool of himself, too. “It was nice to see you, hyung, I hope you enjoy dinner—“

Taemin stopped him with a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder before he could get past him with his bag hung over one aching shoulder. “Keep me company while I wait?” It was phrased like a request, but it didn’t really sound like one. He swallowed thickly, staring wide-eyed at the elder before he nodded. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

Taeyong didn’t really have much of a say in the matter, really. It wasn’t pushy, per se, but Taeyong wasn’t leaving much room for discussion as he lead him over to the bench that ran along one side of the room, making sure he sat down first before joining him. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever actually been alone with Taemin before, and he wasn’t sure if the sick feeling in his stomach was because he was nervous or because he was actually sick. Either way, he could feel it hanging in the air as they waited. He’d never been good at hiding things from anyone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taemin was so kind and genuine that it made him feel overwhelmingly guilty as he ducked his head down, ears burning. He couldn’t just unload and tell him everything that’d been weighing on his mind for months. Besides, he doubted that Taemin would want to sit here and listen to his woes when he had much better things to do. “That’s okay. We don’t have to."

It was about fifteen minutes of stunted small talk later than the door opened again, this time sporting five people piling into the doorway with white plastic bags that wafted the sweet, sweet smell of food into his nose. Taeyong’s stomach made a strangled noise that was probably very audible in the practice room and elicited a few laughs as everyone piled in.

“Taeyong! What are you still doing here?” Ten was the first to speak, passing the bag he’d been holding to Yukhei without even looking and rushing over, brushing his wet fringe back out of his face with a frown. Ten liked to act like nothing phased him but Taeyong knew better — Ten was one of the most compassionate people he knew. “Are you telling me you didn’t leave? _Yong—_ “

“It’s not a big deal,” he interrupted, much quieter, but it was too late.

“You’ve been practising this whole time?” A much deeper voice spoke up, a few meters to his right, and Taeyong didn’t dare look up. “It’s only our first day learning choreo, Taeyong, that’s . . .”

“Why don’t we all sit down and eat then, since you’ve burned up such an appetite,” Baekhyun exclaimed, his voice light and playful as he plopped himself right down on the floor and started opening one of the bags up. The smell of food got stronger, and so did the painful rumbling in his gut. Taeyong was more than happy to oblige for the simple fact that he didn’t want to have to answer any questions; that being said, none were coming his way. Ten looked angry that he’d stayed this long, Mark shooting him looks of concern, as well as his hyungs, but no questions. Besides, was overworking himself really so odd considering their line of work?

Taeyong busied himself with shoving food into his mouth, thanking them repeatedly for the meal. It made his stomach cramp up at first for the simple fact he was that hungry, but it smelt and tasted so good that he couldn’t really stop. Despite how much he wished they hadn’t seen him like this . . . it was nice. It certainly eased some of that tightness in his chest.

“I used to do it too.” Taeyong blinked a few times before he looked up, the last of his noodles slipping past his lips as he looked up at Jongin who was sitting across from him, wedged between Taemin and Mark. “When we first debuted I used to spend hours after everyone else had gone home practising because I never felt like I was good enough. I wanted it to be perfect, you know? Sometimes it got better, but all it took was one tiny misstep on stage, something no one else would even notice, and I’d be back at it again.”

“What Jongin’s trying to say,” Taemin chimed in, “is that we’re all guilty of pushing ourselves too hard at one point or another, but like I told him back then, you don’t have to do everything alone. We’re . . . we’re a team, after all.” It was the first time he’d heard Taemin specifically refer to them as such and for some reason it made his chest tighten — in a good way, though. Being chucked into a group like this had been a little bit hard on everyone but he felt like, maybe, it’d been the hardest on Taemin, and he hadn’t even realised it.

“Taemin’s right,” Baekhyun hummed through a mouth full of food. He took a second to swallow it down, then continued. “Let your hyungs take care of you.” Take care of him, huh? Taeyong was so used to taking care of everyone else that he couldn’t quite the last time someone had done the same for him. Or, more so, that he’d _let_ someone do the same. “It’s healthy to rely on others every now and then. I mean, we all have things that we struggle with, right?”

“I get nervous talking to new people,” Yukhei spoke up with a smile, legs crossed and his second container of food sat balanced in his lap, already half-finished. “Sometimes my words don’t come out right or I get nervous, and I come across really dumb.”

“Don’t say that.” Ten’s brows drew together and he stretched his leg out to kick him gently. “You’re very smart.” Yukhei beamed.

“I know,” he teased playfully, “I just said that I come across that way.” That had them all laughing. Yukhei had always been a mood maker and, though he often came across as very jovial and light-hearted, Taeyong knew how kind and compassionate he was, and how emotionally mature.

“Uh, sometimes I get so into things that I sort of . . . forget to eat, sometimes? Or I’ll end up staying up all night without realising. Mostly just missing meals, though. I don’t do it on purpose but I get so focused,” Mark added, rubbing the back of his neck and pushing his food around. “I mean— wait, we’re sharing things, right?”

“We are indeed,” Baekhyun mused and slung an arm around his shoulder, hand almost knocking Taeyong as he did so. “I used to be really paranoid about food. Diets are one thing, but I used to get really hung up on it — hard not to when you’re surrounded by rock hard abs twenty-four-seven.” His free hand came down to pat his stomach and he smiled. “Abs just aren’t for me. Still, sometimes I get frustrated when my body doesn’t shed weight as fast as other people.”

“I always take on too many things at once, and I won’t stop until I feel like they’re perfect. Sometimes I take my jokes a little too far or don’t realise people’s boundaries at first.” Ten said it nonchalantly like he was indifferent to sharing. Taeyong admired that about him — that he knew himself so well, not just his best traits but also what he perceived as flaws, and that rather than beating himself up over them he kept trying to improve himself. It was something Taeyong often tried (and didn’t quite manage) to take on board.

Taemin hummed and leant back on one of his hands, wiping a napkin over his mouth. “I’m not good at socialising with new people, or getting along with them — it’s easy when it’s on stage or something, but behind the scenes, it’s much harder. My social skills are terrible. People say I often come across as cold or intimidating because of it.” Well, Taemin wasn’t wrong. Taeyong didn’t feel like the elder had ever come across as cold, because he’d always been rather kind, but it was hard not to be intimidated by him. Not just because of his reputation, but by his quietness.

Taeyong pushed around the tiny bit of food left in his container and contemplated his words, chewing at the inside of his lips. They’d all trusted each other, trusted him, with such personal things, and . . . it wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, he was just nervous. “I tend to . . . fixate on things. It gets worse when I’m stressed or under a lot of pressure — sometimes it’s cleaning, sometimes it’s washing my hands, or sometimes it’s things like this. Practising. It feels like the world will end if I stop.”

Ten’s hand settled on his lower back and tugged him in closer until he leant against the other’s shoulder for a moment, fingers picking at a thread on his sweats. “You couldn’t be more perfect if you tried, Yongie.” Taeyong couldn’t help but smile a little at that, his cheeks flushing a soft pink as Mark piled into the hug with an agreement.

“He’s right, you know,” Jongin murmured softly, eyes sparkling as they met his. “You always do incredible, just like you did today. Let me know the next time you feel like you need to practice a little more and I’ll stay back, too.” Taeyong wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary. That he didn’t _need_ Jongin to take care of him, not when he undoubtedly had better things to do. That he didn’t need to alter his schedule for him. But how could he possibly say no when Jongin was looking at him like that?

“Okay, hyung.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


End file.
